


public place, private thoughts

by Enterprising



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Exposition, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enterprising/pseuds/Enterprising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time he has come here, Erik has wondered of his welcome. What would Charles do if Erik walked over there? If he sat down across from him, and told his story?</p>
            </blockquote>





	public place, private thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> this is such a self-indulgent mess, but i figured i might as well post it since i took the time to write it. it's not my usual style but i hope the lack of dialogue creates the reflective kinda tone i was going for
> 
> there is no context for anything that happens: this was just an idea that popped into my head and the details are pretty vague. so if you have no idea what happened, don't worry because i really don't either
> 
> (title taken from you know where to find me by imogen heap)

Charles had not known it was their last night together. Erik had, and yet he accepted Charles' invitation to play chess, unable to stop himself lingering where he should have been long gone.  
  
Every innocent brush of their fingertips on the pieces, every smouldering glance held for just too long, the way Charles leaned in and met Erik's eyes with intent every time he took his turn, had culminated in Erik in turn leaning a little too far over the board and Charles meeting him in the middle.  
  
Their joining hadn't been a wild, passionate fuck, but it hadn't been slow, sweet love, either. It was something that had been in the works for a long time, an opportunity to fuel the fire between them. It could have been the beginning of something beautiful, in another life, Erik thinks, but alas, such pleasures were not intended for cursed boys like Erik.  
  
Erik's heart beats a little faster as he remembers the way Charles had kissed him, deep and full of longing and desperate like it would be his last chance. He remembers being pleasantly surprised and overwhelmed at Charles' strength as he pressed Erik into the bed, hips rolling and slotting together like a puzzle finding its final piece. They hadn't talked much, beside the occasional, "Is this okay?" and the choked, breathy reply, hushed in the darkness of the room. Their only illumination came from the dim desk lamp, precious metres away. The rest of their story was told in the whisper of skin on skin, quiet whimpers and bitten-back moans, the slick slide of bodies moving in a dance as old as time.  
  
This was months ago, and still Erik recalls every detail of Charles. The half-smirk that pulled his mouth when he got one over on Erik during chess; the dainty way he stirred sugar into his tea; the way he gasped hot and needy into Erik's ear when he was fully seated inside Erik; his face when he came, half-lidded eyes fixed on Erik's and filled with an emotion Erik could not, _would not_ name.  
  
Erik closes his eyes against the onslaught of images, of everything he had left behind, and looks across the street through dark glasses at the man who he hadn't gone a day without thinking about, over these last hard months of his life. Charles is at the same table he had frequented the last two times Erik had found him here, the one furthest from the store with two chairs accompanying it. One of them was empty. Erik wishes to fill it, but now is not the time.  
  
The past Tuesdays have found both Charles and Erik here: Charles seated beside the coffee shop, dutifully drinking from a tall glass of whatever takes his fancy that day, and usually munching on a scone. He chooses the same table every time. A creature of habit, is Charles, Erik thinks. Could prove fatal one day, but for now it is only to Erik's benefit.  
  
As for Erik, he is seated far less comfortably in the bus shelter across the street. He wears dark glasses and a hat; perhaps not the impenetrable disguise he would prefer, but enough that if Charles were to look over, his eyes would pass straight over him.  
  
Erik does not know why he gravitates to this coffee shop, on this day, at this time, in order to observe Charles. It isn't stalking, he firmly reminds himself each time he swells with pride at arriving just before Charles does, having predicted the pattern admirably. It's reassurance that Charles is okay, that he lives a life, that he is still _real_. Erik had left Charles that night with a note and an apology, and one final, stolen kiss. Charles had smiled in his sleep as Erik pressed his lips to Charles', but he could not bring himself to smile back. Erik knew he'd had to leave; it could have been no other way, but _Gott_ , how he had wanted to stay, to lay in Charles' arms and pretend that everything was fine.  
  
Today, Erik's fourth time tagging along to Charles' solitary coffee dates, his eyes fix on the empty chair. The first day he had stumbled across Charles sitting outside he had not believed it was truly him, could not believe his luck. Erik did not believe in luck, not anymore, but that day he could not fathom any other reason why they had been reunited. He remembers being crushed beyond his initial elation; believing Charles was waiting for a date. The realisation had almost prompted him to move on, but he could not leave Charles again, not now he had found him.  
  
Erik has told himself countless times not to dwell on the impossible, but this past week as he counted down the days until Tuesday, he has not been able to shake the thought of walking right up to Charles and dropping into the seat opposite him. He suspected that Charles would not be pleased to see him. Erik had explained as much as he could, but he _had_ left Charles, hadn't even said a proper goodbye. Much as he longed to fall into Charles' arms once more, logically he knew there would be much to discuss, _too much_ , and Charles would not forgive him straight away, if he did at all.  
  
From that fateful night, Erik recalls the emotion in Charles' eyes, and recognises that it was mirrored in his own. He sees no logic in pretense anymore, and admits to himself that he is love with Charles Xavier. Erik wishes he had admitted it, both to himself and to Charles, well before their last chess game. He mourns the lost time, the wasted weeks spent dancing the dance with Charles. Because they thought they'd had so much _time_ , but life was fickle that way.  
  
He lifts the can to his lips once more before tossing it. Erik does not usually indulge in sugary products, but today he needed an extra push of liquid luck, and it certainly would not do to turn up drunk, so overpriced liquid sugar it was.  
  
Every time he has come here, Erik has wondered of his welcome. What would Charles do if Erik walked over there? If he sat down across from him, and told his story? Today, Erik thinks grimly, he will find out.  
  
It is July 11th, a horrible sticky-sweet afternoon, and six months to the day since Erik walked out.  
  
Erik sits down across from him. Charles looks up in surprise. Their eyes meet.  
  
Charles smiles hesitantly, and Erik knows his salvation begins here.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at bottomkenobi.tumblr.com!


End file.
